A brief-yet-ongoing journal of all things Carmi. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll reach for your mouse to click back to Google. But you'll be intrigued. And you'll feel compelled to return following your next bowl of oatmeal. With brown sugar. And milk.

Monday, January 30, 2017

By now, news of last night's mass shooting in a Quebec City mosque that ended with six people dead and a right-wing suspect behind bars has gone global. In the ideal world, these things don't happen here, in a city barely two hours from where I grow up, in a place I visited for work, in an everyday kind of neighbourhood that looks shockingly like mine. In the ideal world, these things don't happen at all. To anyone. For any reason. But we've all come to appreciate that the world is far from ideal.

There are so many things that gall me about an atrocity like this that I hardly know where to begin. But the one theme that keeps haunting me is that it could have happened anywhere. Even in my own city. My own place of worship. Or school. Or wherever.

We were in synagogue this past Saturday to watch our daughter recite the passage she originally learned for her bat mitzvah. A week earlier, we were on stage to watch her and our youngest son sing in the choir. They're simple moments, really, milestones in the lives of kids and the community that helped raise them. And as we've done since we moved here, we've gone to this extraordinary place filled with extraordinary, caring people because it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to our lives, an element, a spirit, a certain something that makes this place feel that much more like home. I'm not an overtly religious person by any means, but being part of a broader community somehow makes life warmer, sweeter.

It isn't any different no matter what faith you follow - or even if you don't follow a faith at all. I'm guessing the members of the mosque in the suburb of Ste-Foy sought pretty much what we all seek - togetherness, welcoming, reflection, validation, even refuge. And to be gunned down like farm animals because they dared to attend prayer on a Sunday night is an affront to anyone who values the things that make Canada so extraordinarily special. The gunman didn't just attack a group of worshippers in a single mosque. He attacked all of us.

Which is why I was heartened by London's reaction to this tragedy: Hundreds of members of the community - including the mayor and leaders of all major congregations (including mine) as well as their members - attended a rally today in front of the London Muslim Mosque. The event echoed similar gatherings at mosques across the country, a raw, poignant message from Canadians of all stripes and backgrounds that hatred isn't going to win here.

I don't know if there's enough security in the world to categorically reduce the risk of future attacks to zero. I'm guessing such a world wouldn't be all that liveable. But I do know that fomenting mass hysteria and encouraging unfounded stigmatization of identifiable groups isn't the answer. The socio-political quagmire that seemingly deepens by the hour in Trump's America may very well raise the temperature of zealots on both sides of the border - indeed, the government there perversely used the shooting to justify its just-announced immigration ban. But that doesn't mean that we have to sit around and allow any of this to happen.

There's no such thing as an ideal world. But a kinder, gentler one, where my neighbours stand up for good in spite of everything that swirls around us, feels like the kind of place I'd love to call home. Thankfully the light seems to outshine the dark.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Yesterday was Holocaust Memorial Day, and like many righteous folks - Jews and non-Jews alike - I felt the need to mark it in some way. Originally, it was a simple thing, really: A quick screen grab, shared to Instagram, Facebook and Twitter, with a similarly simple set of hashtags:

#HolocaustMemorialDay #Holocaust #NeverAgain

However we choose to do so, we mark the day because failure to do so dishonours the memories of those who died simply because of who they were. As a Jew, it is my responsibility to shine the light on racism wherever I see it. Not only because of what happened - and continues to happen - to my own people. But to all others, as well. Because if we stand by in silence, we may as well be party to the atrocities in the first place. Until, of course, they come for us, too. Take your pick of identifiable groups - gays, Latinos, African-Americans, whoever - and think about how easy we make it for anyone to marginalize anyone else if we fail to step in. It doesn't have to be directed at you for you to take action.

That should have been more than enough. But then the newly minted president (lower-case deliberate) of the United States, Donald Trump, signed another executive order (he really does love those things, doesn't he?) banning anyone from seven Muslim-majority countries - Iraq, Syria, Iran, Libya, Somalia, Sudan and Yemen - from entering the U.S. for at least the next 90 days. The order also indefinitely suspends Syrian refugees from coming to America, and also pauses the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program for 120 days. That last program will be reinstated only following the implementation of a so-called "extreme vetting" process, and even then only for countries that meet the new administration's yet-to-be-shared criteria for entry.

The irony that Trump would sign such an order on Holocaust Memorial Day should not be lost on any of us. Adding another bizarro element to the story was Trump's own statement on the day that left out any mention of Jews. Or of anti-Semitism. If these actions don't make us sick to our stomachs as members of the human race, I'm not sure what will.

During the Second World War, the U.S. famously closed its borders to refugees from war-torn nations. European Jews tried - and failed - to gain admission to the U.S. as the country maintained strict immigration quotas against Jews from Eastern Europe and from Germany in particular. Anne Frank's family tried numerous times to obtain U.S. visas, only to be denied every time.

A ship, the St. Louis, packed with 937 European refugees, mostly Jews, was turned away from the Port of Miami in 1939 after being similarly denied entry in Cuba and Canada. The ship had no choice but to return to Europe, and many of those on-board were subsequently murdered in the Holocaust. This story loomed large in my upbringing, as the phrase "One was too many" echoed through my home every time my parents saw a news report of another country saying no to those in need.

It sickens me to no end to think of what might have been had xenophobia and self-serving silence not prevailed during that era. Of the lives that could have been saved. Of the entire family trees whose branches would have continued to spawn new branches. Instead, they were amputated right then and there, by leaders lacking humanity. And by everyone else who stood by in rapt inaction and let it happen.

Now, it's 2017 and those echoes reverberate more strongly than ever. In the actions of a man who dwells more on the size of the crowds at his inauguration than the profound needs of the country he now leads. The question we must ask ourselves is whether we're willing to stand by in silence. Or do something about it.

One was too many then. And while it may be too many for a certain leader of the free world, it shouldn't be for those of us standing by and watching this seems-like-fiction circus play out in front of our disbelieving eyes. Unfortunately, this time it isn't fiction. And this time we're a little better equipped to get off the sidelines and actually put a stop to this nonsense.

My ancestors weren't slaughtered so that a couple of generations later we could forget they were ever victimized and allow the entire episode to be repeated. When we say Never Again, we mean it.

Evidence of civilizationLondon, ONJanuary 2017For more footwear-themed Thematic, head here

When I was a kid, I'd often seek out the most challenging route between where I was and where I wanted to go. Never mind that the path had been meticulously cleared with a shovel and hours of sweat and profanity: It was a lot more fun to point myself toward the deepest snow and dive in. I didn't much care how messy I got in the process. Life was short, and snow was awesome.

Adulthood seems to have tempered that feeling somewhat, which is likely why I couldn't understand why an unknown person had walked up the hill through the snow instead of just using the door literally inches to the left of this scene.

This time out, I stuck to the easy route to avoid getting snow all over my boots. But on reflection, maybe I should have been carving my own path through the fresh powder. Adulthood can be such a killjoy.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

"My mother is an incredibly beautiful woman who has laughed at every single thing my father's ever said. At a young age, my brother and I understood that if you can make girls laugh, you can punch well above your weight class."Seth Meyers

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

I work for a giant media company, Bell Media, which is in turn owned by an even more giant telecommunications company, BCE Inc., and today's the day of our annual multiplatform campaign to raise awareness of mental health issues.

It's called Bell Let's Talk, and the company donates 5 cents (Canadian) to mental health initiatives for every text, call, tweet, and Instagram post that uses the #BellLetsTalk hashtag. If you watch the video on Facebook or use the Snapchat geofilter, Bell will donate, too. For even more background, here's the website: Bell.ca/LetsTalk.

Whatever tools you use, have at it and please get my employer to spend as much as possible today. Trust me: They're happy to do so.

I grew up in a family and in an era when mental health wasn't talked about. People suffering from mental illness were deemed "psycho" or "crazy". They were shunned, criticized for not just shaking it off or sucking it up. They were lumped into their own lonely category. Even feared. Anyone who sought help was derisively referred to as "seeing a shrink." as if that was an admission of weakness. In my world, you bravely fought cancer or heart disease. Yet somehow mental illness - a disease of the brain - was never accorded the same level of respect.

Which, of course, drove it underground. And continues to do so to this day. Because in a world where we wrap ourselves in colors for every disease under the sun, we somehow fail to do the same for those who suffer from mental illness. I'm not sure why that is, and maybe that's a reasonable place to start the conversation. And to move the process forward.

I've seen some chatter online that this makes for great PR for a huge, profit-seeking corporation. I couldn't disagree more. All of us have different views of how different companies operate - how they price their products and services, treat their employees and customers or interact with the government. And sometimes, to be fair, some folks may not be their biggest fans. Fair enough.

But no matter how cynical you may feel about any given company, mental health isn't a hashtag. And there's nothing wrong with large companies using their largeness, brand and resources to focus corporate social responsibility on an issue that touches us all. And as much as some of us may see a dedicated day as a manufactured and packaged strategy to smooth out the old corporate image, for the rest of us it remains a prime opportunity to kickstart a process that should already be well underway, but for too many maddening and misunderstood reasons, still is not. If not them, then who? If not today, then when?

Tomorrow, of course, all of this will matter just as much as - if not more than - it does today. So don't just talk. Listen. Empathize. Act. Look inward at your own responses to those around you in need. Share this. Talk about it. Do something good for those around you. Question your own responses and ask yourself if you're doing enough, either for yourself or for others. And when today turns into tomorrow, do the same thing.

I'm under no illusions: A day of hashtag-driven awareness won't magically fix society's apparent inability to deal with this type of illness. When the sun rises tomorrow, too many among us will still wake up afraid to share their truth with others. They'll worry about losing their jobs. Their families. Themselves. Similarly, too many among us will be afraid to ask, afraid to have the conversation.

So if you need to talk, then talk. And if you're on the other side of that conversation, take the time to listen. And to reframe how you feel about mental health, and what you're willing and able to do to help those closest to you.

Monday, January 23, 2017

Some designs are timeless, and I'm going to go out on a limb and conclude that the Converse All-Stars fit the bill. These are the running shoes - sorry, sneakers - we all wore before athletic shoes became a multibillion-dollar business, before triple-digit prices for the latest superstar-endorsed Nikes became the norm.

But here's the thing: Those old shoes never quite went away. And while I'd never consider pairing up some LeBron-themed kicks with a suit, I did come [this close] to wearing red All-Star hi-tops - like the shoe on the right - to my wedding. Somewhere in our album, there's even a picture of me wearing them. My wife wisely suggested I change out of them before the actual ceremony.

So, back to this week's Thematic theme, footwear. Shoes don't just protect us from stepping on icky stuff on the streets. They tell stories about us. They evoke powerful memories. They make us smile. And for the next week, I hope we'll be able to return the favor with a few pictures.

Your turn: Take a picture that supports this week's footwear theme, then share it on your blog, website or social media account (or simply point to something you may have already posted.) Leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Repeat through the week, and pop in on other participants to spread the photographic joy. Click here if you're new to Thematic. Otherwise, have at it. And have fun!

Sunday, January 22, 2017

On Christmas Day, my daughter and I wandered around Dundas Street for a bit. The light was iffy, and between icy sidewalks, marauding drug dealers and suspected prostitutes, we didn't hang around any longer than we needed once we were happy we had enough on our memory cards. I posted my first image here.

The experience left me ambivalent. On the one hand, this once-bustling retail street has struggled mightily to rise from the ashes as new business owners have moved in and tried to lay down substantial roots. There's an energy in the pockets of investment that dot this landscape, from the pub owned by the twentysomethings who enthusiastically greeted us on the sidewalk, to the food hub a block away that's redefining how communities are built and served.

On the other hand, the pub and the food hub are only two bright spots in a landscape that's been overwhelmingly ground down by decades of neglect and mismanagement. There's Just So Much Decay that a couple of examples of goodness can't be expected to repaint the entire neighborhood with a similar brush. At least not yet. Renewal takes time, and there's going to be a lot of messiness along the way.

Which brings me to this picture, a deliberately dead-on shot of the streetscape. It's obviously seen better days, but it also contains flashes of life that simply don't exist in a newer, tonier environment. I doubt I'd be pondering the history of a strip mall in a more conventional suburb - at least not to the same degree.

I want to come back here to see what else I can see. And feel. And what other flashes of life I can find along the way.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Sometimes I get bored when I'm sitting in the stands, surrounded by masses of hockey fans who may or may not have had too much to drink, and may or may not be screaming advice to their favorite players in the futile belief that a) they can actually hear them and b) they actually care.

Don't get me wrong: I love the game. I'm Canadian, after all. But the culture that surrounds it can often be, shall we say, disquieting to those of us who don't drink, don't offer unsolicited advice to players, and just want to watch the game in relative peace.

Nope. Not here. So sometimes I play with my camera to pass the time. Any guesses what I'm doing here?

"Social media is a giant distraction to the ultimate aim, which is honing your craft as a songwriter. There are people who are exceptional at it, however, and if you can do both things, then that's fantastic, but if you are a writer, the time is better spent on a clever lyric than a clever tweet."Bryan Adams

I've always admired Mr. Adams for his quintessentially Canadian approach to songwriting, and his kindness in supporting the music community from which he grew. He never forgot where he came from, and given his global success, that speaks volumes about his character.

Friday, January 20, 2017

There are times when a jiggly mess of mayonnaise on a paper plate (don't worry, I cleaned and recycled it afterward) just begs to have its picture taken. So please allow me to submit that last night, 7:06 p.m., was just such a time.

Perhaps when we shot with film and had to haul out the big camera bag, weird and inexplicable photos like this one would have never been taken. But we live in the age of digital, and the cost - in processing, time and overall energy - has drifted close to that magical zero mark. Now, a flash of an idea quickly becomes pixellated reality thanks to the camera-equipped smartphone that's almost never out of arm's reach. And an understanding wife who appreciates the fact that I have a creative addiction.

We were (obviously) eating dinner. I probably could have taken the time to fetch the "good" camera, but in addition to being disruptive to my ever-patient family, it would have also defeated the purpose of the thing. Simple, fast scenes with virtually no rationale behind them - that's what the world needs more of. I've got to do more of that. Because it tickles the soul and hopefully makes everyone else smile and think when otherwise they might not be smiling or thinking. Who's with me?

P.S. No, I won't post anything about the Trump inauguration. Everyone else is talking about it, and I doubt I'll add much to the discussion. Our souls need more moments with jiggly messes of mayo, and not bigly moments of brag-filled narcissism.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

"Dogs are a really amazing eye opener for us humans because their lives are compressed into such a short period, so we can see them go from puppyhood to adolescence to strong adulthood and then into their sunset years in 10 to 12 years. It really drives home the point of how finite all our lives are."John Grogan

It's been a month since we put Frasier down, and echoes of this crazy puppy who changed our lives continue to reverberate through our home. I still look for him when I wake up in the morning, still schedule my evenings around walks that no longer happen, and still think I hear him trying to break through the baby locks we once kept on the kitchen cabinets.

It's still sad. Not lose-an-immediate-human-family-member sad, of course, but a loss to our family all the same. And we often find ourselves tumbling into spontaneous conversations about what it was like to have him, and how much we miss him.

But then I come across pictures like this one - taken on Zach's birthday - and I can't help but smile. He added an incredible dimension to our kids' lives, and he helped make them better people by teaching them what huge, ongoing responsibility looked like, and what empathy and unconditional love felt like.

As hard as the silence can be, we're glad we had him at all, because these three amazing not-so-little people will always carry those lessons forward. And if a single picture can capture that, I suspect this one does.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up."Anne Lamott

For reasons that I don't fully understand, but nevertheless feel compelled to honor, I think today is the perfect day to share this. Extra points if you blare Keep Hope Alive by Crystal Method while you read it. Here's a handy link.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

I'm sure I didn't win any parent-of-the-year honors for taking our daughter to this stretch of Dundas Street for a quick Christmas Day photo shoot. While we were here, we witnessed a definite drug deal in an alley, a possible case of a prostitute turning a trick, and a cop hauling an abandoned pickup truck off of a filthy snowbank. All fairly predictable fare for this down-on-its-luck stretch of road just east of downtown that was once the city's prime shopping district.

So we were careful in our choice of subjects, because I'm guessing the drug dealer with the cheesy mustache didn't want his face shared on social media.

I normally wouldn't shoot a stranger on the street, but this particular scene seemed to capture the mood of the place, the stoic sense of the day-to-day that seems to define a part of town where nothing comes easy. The people who just want to lead their lives seem to wear that reality on their faces, and even in the way they stand.

As we finished shooting, put our cameras away and headed back to the car, I quietly wished to myself that they wouldn't have to endure the grit forever, that things would begin to change here.

"When autumn darkness falls, what we will remember are the small acts of kindness: a cake, a hug, an invitation to talk, and every single rose. These are all expressions of a nation coming together and caring about its people."Jens Stoltenberg

Monday, January 16, 2017

Take a look at the pics we share online and one thing becomes instantly clear: We're pretty careful about curation. We choose the prettiest compositions, with the least amount of clutter or messiness. We avoid sharing anything that makes us look less pristine, less put-together, less perfect. Sharing ourselves in this age of social media has little to do with painting a complete picture. It's all about crafting the ideal image, and hoping that's enough to convince everyone else that we're worthy of their attention.

Kind of a waste, isn't it?

Which is why this week's theme, Messy, might be a bit of a challenge. Because it involves sharing photos we might normally avoid sharing, and showing strangers things we normally wouldn't choose to show. We're not looking for the pristine, put-together and perfect poses. We're looking for the stuff that usually gets edited out, that wouldn't normally see the light of day. If it's chaotic, askew or, yes, messy, please share it.

Your turn: Take a photo that suggests this week's "messy" theme - or find one from your archives - and post it to your blog, website, Facebook page, or any related online resource. Leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Visit other participants to spread the photographic fun - and feel free to post additional pics through the week. Each theme runs for one week, and new themes go live Mondays at 7 pm. For more info on how Thematic works, just click here.

I thought I'd take one last kick at the Out the Window theme - follow this link home if you'd still like to share yours - before the new Thematic goes live tonight.

Icicles have always been a thing for me*. We've been lucky so far this winter, with crazily variable weather that's made them fairly common over the last few weeks. I've kept telling myself I should throw the "good" camera - as opposed to relying on my trusty-but-still-ultimately-limited smartphone - so that I'd be ready if the temperature gradients and light conditions made a quick out-the-window shoot feasible.

The conditions weren't exactly ideal, as the grey skies and dull light made it a bit of a tough sled. But in the end, I ended up with a series worth adding to the keeper pile, and a reminder that nature never loses the ability to blow us away. The mechanics of icicle formation may be well understood, but that doesn't make them any less amazing to the eye. Or the soul.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Not too far from our house, there's a bike path that runs underneath the bridge that cuts across campus. If you want a closeup view of the river that defines our city, this is as scenic a spot as any. As a cyclist, I whiz by here hundreds of times every season. But for most drivers, it's a spot that slips invisibly, 30 feet beneath their tires, permanently out of sight and out of mind. To them, it may as well not exist. Funny how that works, isn't it?

So on this sunny Sunday morning, I found myself doing what parents of teenaged kids with busy schedules have been doing since the beginning of time: Bringing them back and forth from one event to another. And as I returned home from the first of many of today's scheduled trips, I thought of this little spot, and how it would probably be especially worthy of a look given the stormy, rainy and alternating cold-and-warm weather we've had in the last few days. With the water running high, it was anyone's guess what it looked like down there.

So I parked the car nearby and took a walk. And sure enough, the crazy waters, insane winds and wildly fluctuating temperatures had left fascinating-looking ice formations on the riverside branches. I carefully wandered around the still-frozen grounds and captured what I could. Because it was only a matter of time - precious little time - before it would likely change again. And all this wonder would be gone.

Makes me feel a little sorry for the drivers who had no idea I - or this - was even there. Their loss, I guess.

Your turn: Where else should I look for hidden inspiration this week? Where will you look for it?

Saturday, January 14, 2017

I have a confession to make: I like to take pictures in grocery stores. Well, I like to take pictures pretty much everywhere, and of everything. But grocery stores have had a special appeal to me ever since I first realized I enjoyed looking at the world through the barrel of a lens.

Perhaps it's because of the sheer inappropriateness of it all. Grocery stores don't exist as ersatz studios for budding photographers. You're supposed to go in, get your food, pay for it, and get out. Spontaneous photo shoots aren't supposed to be part of the experience. Yet in my strange little world, they are.

I can't explain it now any better than I could when I first started pulling my camera out in the fruit-and-vegetable section. Maybe I should spend less time explaining and more time shooting.

In the meantime, here's a bunch of bananas. Because bananas are always up for a little optical adventure. The real question, however, is: Are you?

Friday, January 13, 2017

This is the transmitter behind the TV station. It's the tallest structure in the city, and I often find myself subconsciously looking for it when I'm out on my bike.

In engineering terms, it's a simple antenna. But in the mythology of the broadcast entity at its base - the building, the newsroom, the teams that support it, the people who make this place come alive and connect with viewers for hundreds of square miles around - it's often referred to in reverent tones as "The Big Stick."

Whenever I'm in the parking lot that sits in its shadow, I like to stand and listen to it. You can hear the wind as it makes its way through the guide wires and the open structure, an almost constant song that reminds you of the looming giant overhead. It almost feels alive. Given the amount of energy pulsing through it, it kind of is.

But on this day, when the cloud cover closed in and turned the top half into a foggy abstraction, it seemed strangely silent.

Thursday, January 12, 2017

The other night, I found myself in the parking lot of the TV station I call home. I had just finished my Sunday night tech segment and was on my way home. It had snowed earlier (see here) and the plows had thankfully already been here.

I often pause before I get into my car - or any vehicle, for that matter. I use these little slivers of time to think about where I am, where I'm headed, and why I'm out here in the first place. I close my eyes and wish for a safe journey. I try to freeze the moment in my mind. Because, you know, you just never know.

And as I paused on this clear, cold, snowy night, my eyes were drawn to the edges of the parking lot where the now-departed plows had left their piles of snow. I walked over to them and stared intently at the rugged surfaces. The looked like moonscapes, something a NASA probe might have beamed back. The otherworldly scene almost begged to be recorded in some way because a) it was otherworldly and b) it was destined to hang around only as long as fickle Canadian weather allowed.

As I tried to compose the most abstract-looking perspectives while simultaneously willing my exposed fingers to not freeze and/or drop my smartphone, I thought about the seeming ridiculousness of a spontaneous photo shoot in the furthest streetlit corner of an empty parking lot.

This was as close to the margins as I had been in a while, and the mere thought of it made me smile. Because that's where you see the stuff you might have otherwise missed. And where you learn why we all need to put life on hold every once in a while and poke around its edges for a bit. At the very least, you end up with pictures and stories to bring home.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

The day dawns on campusLondon, ONJanuary 2017For more Thematic out the window, click here

This wasn't the right morning for a photo shoot. After a large weekend snowstorm (more on that here), followed by an epic rainfall yesterday afternoon and overnight, topped off by intense winds and a rapid drop in temperature, our fair city woke up covered in black ice this morning.

As the kinderlings needed to be dropped off at school, we needed to head out before sunrise. Being paranoid, I left lots of extra time in the schedule in case the car needed to be de-iced, or in case we needed to drive at 20 km/h to keep from sliding off the road. Thankfully the car was ice-free, the roads were better than expected, and we got to Fanshawe with lots of time to spare.

Which left me with a bit of extra time to get over to the office. And as I waved goodbye and turned my now-empty vehicle toward work, I noticed a lovely burst of salmon/pink light in the eastern sky. I figured life is short and you don't always get opportunities to remember moments like this, so I parked the car and reached for my camera.

The straight-on shots from the "real" camera were merely okay, but only after I got back to the car did I notice the reflection. My brain started to churn, and I thought a smartphone grab to Instagram was in order. Because if I was feeling inspired by the gathering day, I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one. Sharing the moment seemed like the most appropriate thing to do.

Your turn: Do you ever put the day on pause when inspiration presents itself? How do you "make" moments happen?

Monday, January 09, 2017

I was sitting in one of the studios at work today waiting for an interview to start when I decided to open the window blinds and let the light shine in. As you can see, it was - and remains - quite a grey day, but even when it's dull outside, any light makes such a huge difference in the space.

Before long, the phone rang and I had a delightful conversation with a host in Ottawa about the 10th anniversary of the iPhone's introduction (I wrote about it here.) Thinking way back to an iconic Steve Jobs moment made me happy, as did the opportunity to speak on-air with someone I admire and respect. Did the extra light add to the experience? Quite possibly.

It got me thinking that Out The Window would make a fine Thematic theme. So here we are...

Your turn: Take a pic that reflects the "Out The Window" theme - or find one you may have posted online - and then leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Repeat as often as you wish, and feel free to pull in a friend. We'll be doing this all week, so don't be shy. And if you're new to the Thematic thing, click here and all will be explained.

Hard to believe it's been 10 years since Apple first unveiled the iPhone. Steve Jobs introduced the then-radical touch-based device for the first time 10 years ago today - January 9, 2007 - at the (now-defunct) Macworld convention at the Moscone Center in San Francisco. It was available in 4 and 8 gigabyte versions, and cost either $499 or $599 U.S.

On-stage at the keynote, Jobs said, "We're introducing three revolutionary products - an iPod, a phone, and an internet communicator. Are you getting it? These are not three separate devices. It's one device. We are calling it iPhone."

Not fully baked

It's easy to look at an iPhone today and take all of its features - from the mega-capable camera to the endless choice of apps - for granted. We shouldn't, because that first version was somewhat incomplete, and it took some time after its initial intro for the full vision to take shape.

In the beginning, there was no App Store - the device only ran the apps that came installed from the factory, and Jobs only reluctantly opened up the platform to third-party apps a year later. Canadians were out of luck for a year-and-a-half, as Rogers only started selling the second-generation iPhone 3G in July 2008.

The first iPhone had no camera - that came next year. The device was comically small by today's standards, and for much of the next decade Apple stubbornly trailed the industry's push toward steroid-injected big screens. Still, iPhones remained aspirational beyond their relative feature set, and whenever a new one was introduced, customers lined up around the block - often for days - for the privilege of being the first among their friends to have one. As an analyst, rarely have I witnessed a tech product so consistently cross over into mainstream news.

Rewriting the smartphone script

Smartphones existed then, of course, but the market was dominated by BlackBerry, Palm, Nokia, Motorola and Microsoft. Devices were expensive, clunky and mostly business-focused. Famously, BlackBerry and Microsoft dismissed the iPhone as a toy, saying its lack of a keyboard and design-centric focus on consumers left it dangerously unable to meet corporate needs. I wonder what Jim Balsillie and Steve Ballmer are thinking today.

History, of course, had the last laugh. While Apple didn't invent anything completely new, it took dead aim at the things that didn't work on the smartphones of the day and re-engineered its phone to address them. For example, existing smartphones were awful at displaying web pages - either they displayed stripped-down pages, took forever to load them, or failed to do so entirely. The iPhone introduced a multi-touch screen, pinch-to-zoom and a full-blown Safari browser that made pages just as accessible and usable on the phone as they were on a full-blown computer.

In all, most of the iPhone's features had been seen before, but on Apple's device they were better integrated than anything else on the market. Apple's "It Just Works" design methodology ensured anyone could get stuff done simply by taking the device out of the box and touching it. The concept of mobile devices as compromised penalty boxes died with the iPhone's introduction.

The result

Today's iPhone is now a fixture in boardrooms, dorm rooms, kitchens and everywhere else. BlackBerry has an almost-invisible global market share and no longer designs or makes its own devices. Nokia imploded, was bought by Microsoft, which then single-handedly ran the business into the ground and wrote the acquisition down by a staggering $8 billion. HP bought Palm, then shuttered it. Motorola floundered for a while before being absorbed by Lenovo.

Google's Android mobile operating system was already in development at the time of the iPhone release, but early prototypes largely echoed the BlackBerry user experience. The arrival of the iPhone forced Google to completely overhaul its roadmap for Android, and it ultimately became a me-too, touch-based, app-driven operating system.

Pillar of a new ecosystem

The iPhone almost single-handedly drove Apple's growth for much of the last decade, and is now responsible for 2 out of every 3 dollars in revenue. Its technology also laid the foundation for Apple's broader mobile ecosystem, namely the iPad and Apple Watch.

The iOS operating system was extended to accommodate the larger-screened devices - a crucial factor in driving early consumer acceptance and adoption of tablets, as it used familiarity to overcome longstanding market doubts about the viability of tablets - and then shrunken down to enable the Watch OS code for the smaller-screened wearables. iOS was also extended to the Apple TV product line, with its tvOS operating system using a similar app-centric architecture to build a marketplace and attract innovation.

Clouds gather

Fast-forward to 2017, however, and things aren't so rosy in iPhone-land. Sales have slowed over the past 2 years thanks to a maturing smartphone market and accelerating competition from Android (which in 2016 accounted for 86% of handset sales, up from 80% in 2015), Apple is under pressure from investors and analysts to find the Next Big Thing to fuel its next chapter, and repeated misfires (iPad sales are slowing, Apple Watch sales lead the smartwatch segment, but still haven't broken out, its TV-based revenues are languishing, and the latest Macs are being criticized for their elevated price and ahead-of-their-time connectivity) have left observers wondering if we've already seen Peak Apple.

My $0.02: While Apple's next chapter may still be something of a blank page, it's difficult to imagine the company would be anywhere near as dominant as it is if it hadn't introduced the iPhone 10 years ago. It very much was one of those magical once-in-a-very-long-while products that completely changes the rules of the game. Sometimes, though, it isn't 100% obvious on day 1.

She was right. My memories - beyond a bunch of pictures taken hurriedly on smartphones before stuffing them back into dry pockets and putting our gloves and mitts on before our fingers lost feeling due to the cold - revolve mostly around their happy voices cutting through the wind and layers of wool hat wrapping my head.

We retraced the same route we used to follow with the pup, in conditions that doubtless would have had him bouncing crazily through the snow, stopping often to bury his head deep as he shnorkeled loudly and happily. I never did quite figure out what he was looking for as he buried his head so far into the snow that his ears needed a brush-off when he was done, but I smiled to myself as I thought that today was a good day to get back out and embrace whatever it was that Mother Nature chose to throw at us.

Today may have created an indelible memory for all of us, but all I could think of as we stepped back into the house and hacked away at the snow that had accumulated on us was how soon we'd get to do it again.

I'm thinking tomorrow night. And maybe every night thereafter. If you're in the neighborhood, you're always welcome to join in.

Thursday, January 05, 2017

A little over seven years after our first trip to this unassuming laundromat near the corner of Oxford and Adelaide in the middle of London, we found ourselves here again. The reason, just like the last time, was the same: Our regular washing machine had broken, and we needed to make a dent in the growing pile of laundry before the new one was scheduled to be delivered.

We'll save my complaints around why a state-of-the-art washing machine lasts only seven years before chewing itself up from the inside out. But suffice to say we won't be buying Samsung anytime again.

My annoyance with today's throwaway culture notwithstanding, I relished the opportunity to get back here with my wife. First, I like hanging around with her. And while it may not be a fancy restaurant or tropical beach, a date is a date is a date. You take your moments wherever you can get them, even in a place festooned with hastily handwritten and taped signs, ancient machines and cracked and yellowed floor tiles that probably looked out of date when Nixon was learning to lie.

Second, the things that make this place look downtrodden are exactly why it's such a fascinating space to explore. We had such a good time the last time that it seemed almost poetic to be writing a second, albeit abbreviated, chapter seven years on.

The news cycle has a funny way of rewriting my schedule. This one's a doozy.

I got an email yesterday from the news team at CTV Toronto. They were working on an exclusive story and wanted my take. The FBI and Department of Homeland Security in the U.S. had released a big list of Internet Protocol (IP) addresses that they suspected of having been used by Russian hackers in their attempts to break into systems owned by the Democratic National Committee. The story has been swirling for months that state-sponsored Russian hackers had been trying to influence the outcome of the U.S. presidential election by engaging in cybercrime against electoral targets. (And, no, despite what Donald Trump says, we can't simply "go on with our lives." This stuff is important, and we're all at risk if we simply do nothing.)

The list released by the FBI/DHS contained some 900 so-called malicious IP addresses that were allegedly targeted by the hackers. Six of those IP addresses were traced to Canada. One of them was traced to HydroOne, the huge electric utility that serves the province of Ontario. Ruh roh!

What's the deal with IP addresses, anyway? Each IP address typically corresponds to a unique Internet-connected device, like a laptop, a server, or possibly even an Internet-connected smart device. Every Internet-connected device has a unique IP address, and everything we do online has that IP address attached to it. Send an e-mail, and that IP address is included in the package. Tweet someone? Post a Facebook status update? All of these activities have an IP address embedded in them, and assuming you know where to look, you can easily track the activity right back to its source.

Except hackers don't much like having their activities traced back to them. So instead of using their OWN computers to launch attacks, they hunt around online looking for devices and computers with weak security. And when they find them, they install malware on them that lets them remotely take over the machine - often without the owner's knowledge. Are you a victim? Well, if you don't use updated security software, are always clicking on unknown links from friends and strangers alike in Facebook, use the same easy-to-guess password on multiple systems and haven't changed your passwords in ages, there's a reasonable chance that your computer has at least some malware on it.

The good news: it doesn't look like the Russian hackers were directly targeting the electric utility, and they weren't trying to break into any nuclear generating stations, either (Good...I'll cancel that earlier ruh roh.) Rather, they were targeting weak systems with malware that would then give them a jumping-off point for further attacks - and would make it difficult for those attacks to be traced back to their original source. It's classic hacker methodology: Probe into vulnerable systems, implant malicious code on them, then springboard from there. Sometimes these victimized networks are called "zombie nets", and we often see them used in those big Distributed Denial of Service attacks.

The bad news: Hydro One's security protocols are woefully inadequate if they allow one of their systems - it could be a laptop, a server or some other computing device - to be compromised in this way. Just like you and I have to keep our security software updated and can't click on every link we see in Facebook lest we get our machines infected with malware, likewise Hydro One failed to ensure its own systems were similarly protected. Someone's got some 'splaining to do. And the fact that Hydro One is among those victimized reinforces to us yet again that no one, and nothing, is safe.

As you can imagine, thanks to some faceless Russians and an apparently asleep-at-the-switch electric utility employee, I've been a bit busy on the media front explaining this one.

I spoke live with CTV News Channel's Scott Laurie last night, and am scheduled for another hit with the network this morning at 9 ET. I spoke with Newstalk 1010's John Moore at 5:47 and am live again with CKTB Niagara's Tim Denis at 6:50. I expect more of the same as the fallout from this highly disturbing chapter in digital vulnerability to continue to ripple out.

It makes for early mornings, late nights and long days in between, but it's quite the experience to be right in the middle of the media storms like this one - and to be the guy who tries to sort it all out.

Monday, January 02, 2017

The scene: Museum London. I had come here with our youngest son so he could do some research for a school assignment. As we looked for potential themes that matched the syllabus, we came across this delightful old typewriter sitting inside a brilliantly lit glass cube. All I had was my smartphone, but I still wanted to commit it to pixels in some reasonable way.

As you can see, the light presented quite the challenge, as there was no way to avoid getting some sort of shadow in the shot. In the end, I decided to embrace it, and the result is what you see here.

Your turn: Take a photo that reflects, supports or otherwise evokes this week's theme, letters. Post it to your blog, website or social media presence (yes, even Facebook will count!) and leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants to see what they're up to, as well, and don't be hashtag-shy, either: #ThematicPhotographic is how we roll. If you'd like to learn more about how Thematic works, click here. Most of all, have fun with it. Because photography is supposed to be fun, and I'm hoping we can get back to that in the year to come. Looking forward to the journey!

"If there was nothing wrong in the world, there wouldn't be anything for us to do."George Bernard Shaw

It's easy to absorb the headlines and assume the world is an awful place. It's just as easy to conclude we're powerless to change our individual or collective reality. Words like these remind me - and hopefully you - that this need not be the case.

Just like we need darkness to appreciate light, and failure to know what success feels like, a perfect world wouldn't offer up any opportunities to advance the state-of-the-art, or learn anything along the way.

Sunday, January 01, 2017

This is a picture of my wife's mug, and I often linger over it if I happen to be the one who's filling it. It's a simple message, but one that seems to define who we are and how we've chosen to live our life together.

Life isn't always easy, and it doesn't always follow a linear or predictable path. But as long as we know this one basic fact, all those other challenges somehow seem to pale in comparison. And everything more or less works out for the better.

I know she doesn't need her mug to remind her of this. But I'm still glad we have a concrete reminder right in front of us every morning. Because I'd hate to miss an opportunity to let her know what's floating through my head.